I look out to those beginnings with hope, and love and fervour and anticipation. Because I have had my share of endings in a recent short period of time. Always more endings -the end of my short vacation, the end of my third year of medicine, the end of a sweet, brief romance. And with every end, a piece of me dies, making space for something new to grow in its place. I'm no botanist, no herbologist, but this is real. Summer's kiss, the caress of the sun, now a faint memory, life pleading, experience pushing, pressing, pulsing against me, within and through me, that I may shatter infinitely. And who will I be at the end of all that? What will I be like, once I've toughened up real good? Once I weld up and layer this formerly delicate armour? What kind of a person will breathe softly beneath it all? What kind of doctor will remain cloaked in the wine-toned gowns of the Earth, whose gravity pulls her face to the soil, filling her eyes, mouth and nostrils and then demanding that she see, speak, smell and live?
And yet the ending of all these, signal new beginnings too. It's a cliche. But death is necessary for rebirth. Pleasure, joy and fulfilment are known only through our experience and concept of their opposites and their lack. I'm finally going to be doing what I love in this next elective -I can only hope and pray that my path be revealed and confirmed in the coming three weeks, that I fall in love so deeply and so madly with my profession that I overflow, flooding, annhilating all other emotions, wounds, memories. The real romance should only ever be with oneself, one's work, one's God. The rest is for the meek hearted. Be your own rock in the storm. Let the thunder and the waves crash down and around -the water breaks, not the stone. It is hard and cold, perhaps even cracked in some places, but it does not weep nor does it fall to pieces.
As Anne Shirley would say, "Tomorrow is a new day, with no mistakes!" When we get the blessed opportunity for a fresh start, we'd best go into it a little wiser.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Fragmented Moments
The one patient, my favourite patient said to me, "Thank you, really, thank you -you doctors, you really saved my life!" and smiled with a twinkle in his eye. And then I was back in the ER, excited to do my second blood gas and boom, within 20 minutes, that other patient went from clutching my hand to dead -without warning, without family, without anyone to hold his hand. Just like that. And then there was jazz playing inside the window and cold drinks melting on the patio table, and the deep sigh. Prayers today. I nearly cried, I felt so sad and I didn't know why. It's warm, the air still fragrant with spring before the theoretical lazy bliss of summer. All of this impacted and compacted into a splinter of time, a moment's hair, the poo of the invisible speck that we are in this Universe. It's kind of unreal.
Days like today make you want to retire from it all. Friends moving away from their own cities, not even your own, and yet, you feel sad as though they were leaving you. Patients dying and you feel so shocked, when you know that this is part of your job -people die, just deal with it. But they were in pain, and they were sick and oh, they suffered like hell before the end. And you feel like the fact that it happened that way is like a violation of your own soul. And tonight the deep sigh doesn't reassure you, nor the deliciousness of your dinner. Because all you want is the embrace, the caress, the hand holding yours, someone telling you that it's going to be okay. So that you can still tell your patients the same, without feeling like it's all a lie. But that's the thing. Doctors hold patients' hands... who holds the doctor's hand?
Days like today make you want to retire from it all. Friends moving away from their own cities, not even your own, and yet, you feel sad as though they were leaving you. Patients dying and you feel so shocked, when you know that this is part of your job -people die, just deal with it. But they were in pain, and they were sick and oh, they suffered like hell before the end. And you feel like the fact that it happened that way is like a violation of your own soul. And tonight the deep sigh doesn't reassure you, nor the deliciousness of your dinner. Because all you want is the embrace, the caress, the hand holding yours, someone telling you that it's going to be okay. So that you can still tell your patients the same, without feeling like it's all a lie. But that's the thing. Doctors hold patients' hands... who holds the doctor's hand?
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Stories from the 'House of God' and Spring's Aphrodite
The confession is that I have never actually read that book. But it's been talked up quite a bit this first month of Internal Medicine. And my sense it that it's probably an apt title for this entry.
It's been a while. That's the nature of Internal Medicine and sweet, fragrant spring days -either slaving, studying or trying to live a little. It can actually be enough to throw you totally off balance sometimes.
My first month was on hematology-oncology wards and I got lucky: best senior residents I've ever had, amazing attending staff who loved to teach, told interesting, funny stories of their own experiences as medical students and residents, sharing their wealth of knowledge and experience, and yes, in the spirit of excellence and love. My patients provided me with challenges, new perspectives, nearly drowned me in the mud of the unfortunate circumstances that were their lives, and once in a while, inspired me with the blessings from their souls. All of them taught me something invaluable. That someone else's mistake would be mine too if I didn't catch it -that although it may take at least 3 levels of error to actually reach a patient, the ultimate responsibility rested with us, the physicians. But that when we find those errors, acknowledge them and apologize, and then try to find solutions, we're helping future physicians, pharmacists, nurses... evolving a system that can better benefit our patients.
I learned that your favourite patient (ah, yes, I will certainly admit to having favourites -they are the ones that keep you going through a possibly otherwise miserable, chaotic day), the one who was doing so well, the one who was meant to go home tomorrow, in the flash of a few moments, can go from stable and smiling to vomiting blood, crashing blood pressure and O2 sat and being rushed to the ICU. All the while, you watch in awe as your beloved seniors, calmly order units of packed red cells, bolus fluids and load him up with pressors before the transfer. But you, you are just frozen. And then you look back at the extremely slowly trending down hemoglobin, the slightly increased BUN that afternoon and think to yourself, "I should have known". But your senior kindly points it out "Okay, let's say you saw it coming. What would you have done?" To which my response was, "Call GI" and which he quickly finished, "and maybe they would have scoped him tomorrow [because until that sudden episode of hematemesis, he was stable -it was not an apparent emergency]" So it wouldn't have made a difference. But still. It scared the crap out of me. Massive GI bleed, requiring over 12 units of blood in 24 hours. One of my happiest moments was when that patient came back to the ward from the ICU. And he was smiling and joking and squirming antsy-ly in his hospital bed, in a grey sweatsuit, anticipating a nice lunch of spanakopita at home.
And for some patients it goes from pretty darn awful, to worse... and no one deserves that kind of hell. Imagine living with poorly controlled schizoaffective disorder, along with at least 7 other serious medical conditions. You come into the hospital with medication toxicity and new pulmonary embolus. And you leave with f-ing cancer. And now imagine being the spouse of that patient. Yes no wonder they're a bit of a grouch. Yet, it's so hard for a medical student to deal with that chronically grumpy, angry, accusing spouse in addition to our clinical responsibilities and trying to learn around our cases and get it all done efficiently. You kind of feel like you're helping nobody and maybe they even hate you, but you learn not to take it personally. Then one day your attending staff comes to you and says, "You wanna call back patient X's husband? I talked to him earlier and he said he only wanted to talk with you" What? Has the world gone mad. And you call back and he's still Grumpy McGrumpster. But he asked for you.
And there's the vibrant, smiling, rosy-cheeked woman with multiple myeloma (a kind of bone marrow / blood cancer) who lights up every morning when you round, and tells you every day that you'll be a wonderful doctor someday, and thanks you for doing your best for her everyday. Her platelets are dropping everyday and then it's time to transfuse her. And she is in tears, and her eyes are filled with fear. This is how her beloved started their downward spiral into the grave... all she can remember was the many transfusions. You explain to her that we expected this though. That this one transfusion does not mean she's going to die too. And you sit there and hold her hand and then, she's smiling again. You have her blessing too, but only because you were blessed enough to know to listen, to know to explain.
At the end of that first month, I admitted an older woman in her 90s. She was basically palliative, with multiple comorbidities, not the least of which was an Aortic Stenosis with an ASA of 3 mm (basically a 3mm diameter through which the heart was meant to pump blood to the whole rest of the body)... 4 years ago (which means, even smaller now). She couldn't talk, she could hardly breathe, she was in pain. She had no family, no friends. She was a Level 3 -no Code. We gave her oxygen, we managed her pain. I would check in on her every morning. And then on my last Friday on the wards, as usual, I couldn't understand a muffled word she uttered. Then distinctly made out her plea: "stay". So I pulled up a chair, took her frail hand in mine, "I'm here now, you rest". The struggle abated, her breathing slowed, her facial muscles relaxed and she held my hand firmly. It reminded me of when I held my grandmother's hand right before the end. That evening at sign-out, the new attending on the wards said, "Oh for goodness sakes, there's nothing really we can do for this patient. What she really needs is someone to sit by her and hold her hand." To which I responded gently, "Yes, I did that for a bit earlier today". "Well, good for you for taking the time to be a human being". She passed away the following morning.
I'm now one week into my second month of Internal medicine and well, let's say the blinders are off. The idealism... has metamorphosed into a compassionate realism. This world is both the filthy garbage dump and the rose garden. And medicine is no different. It's about what we choose to focus on once the sun has set, the moon has risen and we're collapsing into bed. Those fleeting pre-dream thoughts.
Believe it or not though, through the frenzy and chaos, we still make time for a little romance. Walks through pot-holed sidewalks and cobblestone streets, kisses in the park, those fabulous kinds of conversations with the eternal tangent, new flavours in sizzling bowls, or sweet mapley desserts melting in your mouth amidst brightly coloured flowers and live jazz. Or learning a new board game, discovering a funny TV show. Or the beauty of the still, in calm, soothing, comfortable company. Life blesses us with those joyous, carefree moments too.
Whether it's the dark black waters of a bottomless ocean, or the golden shimmer or sunlight hitting petals and leaves in the garden, for such adventure and all these opportunites to learn, grow and share my joy, yes, I am so grateful.
It's been a while. That's the nature of Internal Medicine and sweet, fragrant spring days -either slaving, studying or trying to live a little. It can actually be enough to throw you totally off balance sometimes.
My first month was on hematology-oncology wards and I got lucky: best senior residents I've ever had, amazing attending staff who loved to teach, told interesting, funny stories of their own experiences as medical students and residents, sharing their wealth of knowledge and experience, and yes, in the spirit of excellence and love. My patients provided me with challenges, new perspectives, nearly drowned me in the mud of the unfortunate circumstances that were their lives, and once in a while, inspired me with the blessings from their souls. All of them taught me something invaluable. That someone else's mistake would be mine too if I didn't catch it -that although it may take at least 3 levels of error to actually reach a patient, the ultimate responsibility rested with us, the physicians. But that when we find those errors, acknowledge them and apologize, and then try to find solutions, we're helping future physicians, pharmacists, nurses... evolving a system that can better benefit our patients.
I learned that your favourite patient (ah, yes, I will certainly admit to having favourites -they are the ones that keep you going through a possibly otherwise miserable, chaotic day), the one who was doing so well, the one who was meant to go home tomorrow, in the flash of a few moments, can go from stable and smiling to vomiting blood, crashing blood pressure and O2 sat and being rushed to the ICU. All the while, you watch in awe as your beloved seniors, calmly order units of packed red cells, bolus fluids and load him up with pressors before the transfer. But you, you are just frozen. And then you look back at the extremely slowly trending down hemoglobin, the slightly increased BUN that afternoon and think to yourself, "I should have known". But your senior kindly points it out "Okay, let's say you saw it coming. What would you have done?" To which my response was, "Call GI" and which he quickly finished, "and maybe they would have scoped him tomorrow [because until that sudden episode of hematemesis, he was stable -it was not an apparent emergency]" So it wouldn't have made a difference. But still. It scared the crap out of me. Massive GI bleed, requiring over 12 units of blood in 24 hours. One of my happiest moments was when that patient came back to the ward from the ICU. And he was smiling and joking and squirming antsy-ly in his hospital bed, in a grey sweatsuit, anticipating a nice lunch of spanakopita at home.
And for some patients it goes from pretty darn awful, to worse... and no one deserves that kind of hell. Imagine living with poorly controlled schizoaffective disorder, along with at least 7 other serious medical conditions. You come into the hospital with medication toxicity and new pulmonary embolus. And you leave with f-ing cancer. And now imagine being the spouse of that patient. Yes no wonder they're a bit of a grouch. Yet, it's so hard for a medical student to deal with that chronically grumpy, angry, accusing spouse in addition to our clinical responsibilities and trying to learn around our cases and get it all done efficiently. You kind of feel like you're helping nobody and maybe they even hate you, but you learn not to take it personally. Then one day your attending staff comes to you and says, "You wanna call back patient X's husband? I talked to him earlier and he said he only wanted to talk with you" What? Has the world gone mad. And you call back and he's still Grumpy McGrumpster. But he asked for you.
And there's the vibrant, smiling, rosy-cheeked woman with multiple myeloma (a kind of bone marrow / blood cancer) who lights up every morning when you round, and tells you every day that you'll be a wonderful doctor someday, and thanks you for doing your best for her everyday. Her platelets are dropping everyday and then it's time to transfuse her. And she is in tears, and her eyes are filled with fear. This is how her beloved started their downward spiral into the grave... all she can remember was the many transfusions. You explain to her that we expected this though. That this one transfusion does not mean she's going to die too. And you sit there and hold her hand and then, she's smiling again. You have her blessing too, but only because you were blessed enough to know to listen, to know to explain.
At the end of that first month, I admitted an older woman in her 90s. She was basically palliative, with multiple comorbidities, not the least of which was an Aortic Stenosis with an ASA of 3 mm (basically a 3mm diameter through which the heart was meant to pump blood to the whole rest of the body)... 4 years ago (which means, even smaller now). She couldn't talk, she could hardly breathe, she was in pain. She had no family, no friends. She was a Level 3 -no Code. We gave her oxygen, we managed her pain. I would check in on her every morning. And then on my last Friday on the wards, as usual, I couldn't understand a muffled word she uttered. Then distinctly made out her plea: "stay". So I pulled up a chair, took her frail hand in mine, "I'm here now, you rest". The struggle abated, her breathing slowed, her facial muscles relaxed and she held my hand firmly. It reminded me of when I held my grandmother's hand right before the end. That evening at sign-out, the new attending on the wards said, "Oh for goodness sakes, there's nothing really we can do for this patient. What she really needs is someone to sit by her and hold her hand." To which I responded gently, "Yes, I did that for a bit earlier today". "Well, good for you for taking the time to be a human being". She passed away the following morning.
I'm now one week into my second month of Internal medicine and well, let's say the blinders are off. The idealism... has metamorphosed into a compassionate realism. This world is both the filthy garbage dump and the rose garden. And medicine is no different. It's about what we choose to focus on once the sun has set, the moon has risen and we're collapsing into bed. Those fleeting pre-dream thoughts.
Believe it or not though, through the frenzy and chaos, we still make time for a little romance. Walks through pot-holed sidewalks and cobblestone streets, kisses in the park, those fabulous kinds of conversations with the eternal tangent, new flavours in sizzling bowls, or sweet mapley desserts melting in your mouth amidst brightly coloured flowers and live jazz. Or learning a new board game, discovering a funny TV show. Or the beauty of the still, in calm, soothing, comfortable company. Life blesses us with those joyous, carefree moments too.
Whether it's the dark black waters of a bottomless ocean, or the golden shimmer or sunlight hitting petals and leaves in the garden, for such adventure and all these opportunites to learn, grow and share my joy, yes, I am so grateful.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Finding Magic
I miss Nova Scotia so much. Yes, I'm actually pining. Did I tell you I even cried on the airplane on the way back home? I still listen to my pretty fiddle music and get all nostalgic. But it's comforting too and I feel like everything will be okay. I was watching a short bit of movie with my mother this evening and one of the lines really jumped out at me: "Stop looking for obstacles instead of looking for magic".
Isn't that what we do when we feel vulnerable or scared or like we don't have control? Look for obstacles right? Why: because it's easier to identify a problem and then try to fix it as opposed to just riding the Atlantic wave, lest you get crashed up against some jagged rocks hidden (and sometimes not so hidden!) amidst the soft, white sand. But the magic was never about where the current brought you, it was always about the cool, refreshing majesty of blue blue sea (I know, I just changed my metaphor... my best memories of riding waves for hours at a time are in the Mediterranean), around, behind, in front and under you, lifting you up to the pale sky, alight with golden rays, for moments at a time. It's the high. And magically, every high is not followed by blood, scrapes and bruises (however, as a future surgeon, I will gladly sew those up for you!). You don't have to land in sand or split your skin on the rocks. If you flow with the waves, when the one ebbs, the next will cradle you back up -it's the perpetual high, the ever-lasting wet kiss of that crystalline liquid that gives us life at all. And when it's time to rest, we can wash up on shore with the surf -calm, relaxed, composed, radiant with exhilaration and joy. Magic, right.
It's like that with medicine. It's like that with love. It's like that with so many, many things. And the Truth of it gives me goosebumps from head to toe. Letting go is a choice, it's wilful surrender -a gain, a blessing... not a loss, not anything to be feared. Sometimes pretending that not feeling anything is easier or better than feeling so profoundly that your soul may shatter through your broken heart. But by shattering your soul, so many more will know you, and so many more will you touch with your love. I suppose that's where God resides.
I'm just over a week into my Internal Medicine rotation, and thanks to my refreshing Nova Scotian happy-place-in-my-soul, I've actually been able to appreciate, learn and even enjoy parts of it. I have a great team, and a few lovely patients, and there is a wealth of knowledge to be imbibed! Challenging, tiring (and okay, not as cool as surgical things) but so much better than I could have ever imagined! And I finally did my first ABG (arterial blood gas) and I got it on the very first try -it was the best part of my week!
Well, back to my work. Let the magic continue!
Isn't that what we do when we feel vulnerable or scared or like we don't have control? Look for obstacles right? Why: because it's easier to identify a problem and then try to fix it as opposed to just riding the Atlantic wave, lest you get crashed up against some jagged rocks hidden (and sometimes not so hidden!) amidst the soft, white sand. But the magic was never about where the current brought you, it was always about the cool, refreshing majesty of blue blue sea (I know, I just changed my metaphor... my best memories of riding waves for hours at a time are in the Mediterranean), around, behind, in front and under you, lifting you up to the pale sky, alight with golden rays, for moments at a time. It's the high. And magically, every high is not followed by blood, scrapes and bruises (however, as a future surgeon, I will gladly sew those up for you!). You don't have to land in sand or split your skin on the rocks. If you flow with the waves, when the one ebbs, the next will cradle you back up -it's the perpetual high, the ever-lasting wet kiss of that crystalline liquid that gives us life at all. And when it's time to rest, we can wash up on shore with the surf -calm, relaxed, composed, radiant with exhilaration and joy. Magic, right.
It's like that with medicine. It's like that with love. It's like that with so many, many things. And the Truth of it gives me goosebumps from head to toe. Letting go is a choice, it's wilful surrender -a gain, a blessing... not a loss, not anything to be feared. Sometimes pretending that not feeling anything is easier or better than feeling so profoundly that your soul may shatter through your broken heart. But by shattering your soul, so many more will know you, and so many more will you touch with your love. I suppose that's where God resides.
I'm just over a week into my Internal Medicine rotation, and thanks to my refreshing Nova Scotian happy-place-in-my-soul, I've actually been able to appreciate, learn and even enjoy parts of it. I have a great team, and a few lovely patients, and there is a wealth of knowledge to be imbibed! Challenging, tiring (and okay, not as cool as surgical things) but so much better than I could have ever imagined! And I finally did my first ABG (arterial blood gas) and I got it on the very first try -it was the best part of my week!
Well, back to my work. Let the magic continue!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Nova Scotian Fiddle!
I'm obsessed. But I found some youtube links of the music i've been playing over and over ever since I acquired it here, and thought you might enjoy a little taste!
Anna Ludlow:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I87h4Hqgj8A&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhY4hAxZjFs&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dotzGF_9-Sc
reel-love,
me=)
Anna Ludlow:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I87h4Hqgj8A&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhY4hAxZjFs&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dotzGF_9-Sc
reel-love,
me=)
Friday, April 29, 2011
Little-Girl Fairytales to Loving Reels
I've already begun to tell you about my sweet, slow, inspired romance with the Maritimes. Like falling in love though, completely drunk and high with passion -grand flames bursting and snapping about with enlightened joy, yet a slow glowing smolder beneath, comfortingly reassuring that this love won't die.
Perhaps today, we're all entitled to a little princess-love fantasy, in celebration of the marriage of the lovely Kate Middleton to Prince William, now Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. That stunning wedding gown of creamy lace and satin, those stolen glances, shy smiles, balcony kisses and general merriment... it's our collective little-girl fairytale! And it was beautiful, the sentiment simple and good -to have happiness aired all day long in the news, on the net, in papers, on the radio -just for a moment to share in that dream, and suspend some of the more complicated challenges of our various realities. So in this spirit, I share with you, my love for this East Coast province.
Today was a glowing, glorious day for me in medicine -small joys make it all wonderful: all by myself, I locally anesthetized, excised a skin nevus (or "mole") and sutured lovingly, delicately and with undivided attention a woman's inner thigh. Time flew as I practiced the artful technique of my supervisor, under his supervision, earning his praise, the patient's praise and my own satisfaction. I will be a surgeon. Hopefully an obstetrician, but certainly a surgeon of sorts. Today made it so obvious to me, I had to laugh that I ever thought I could ever be anything else!
Earlier this week, on the afternoon I had off, I was treated to the experience of the stunning, understated beauty of Nova Scotia's South Shore, visiting Bridgewater, Lunenberg and Mahone Bay. Listening to Celtic reels (Nova Scotian though) and other Canadian musical artists to get us into the free, local spirit, driving along a mesmerizing coastline, the sun gradually peeping through the clouds, finally breaking and bathing the Atlantic waters in that infinity sky-blue, brightly coloured little cottages and fishermen's homes (and sometimes mansions -who said fishermen were poor ;), docks, churches, friendly, smiling faces, little shops, golf courses, lighthouses and harbours (including the home of the Bluenose -the large sailboat on the back of the Canadian dime... though it wasn't there yet, so we settled for the Caledonia). 
We passed little brooks and streams, pebbled streets called "Kissing Bridge Rd", smiling faces, and inhaled big wafts of salty sea air filled with the promise of summery days, tourists and ice cream. We had a scrumptuous lunch of homemade fishburgers, chips and Nanaimo bars at Lahave Bakery, amidst old newspaper clippings, wood-cottage-like warmth, British and communist flags, hanging guitars and corners filled with old books. The day ended with a visit to Greenfield -and the most serene cottage on one of the two lakes, cozily nestled in a forest of fragrant pine, birch and soon-to-bud leafy trees. I was recounted stories of community wide feasts of planked salmon over large fires, and starry nights over the lake, family time and love -a little Maritime Eden. 
Then after my final 24-hour call, instead of taking the usual post-call day of rest after a night of 3.5 hours of sleep, I spent the day gallavanting about Halifax. Starting bright and early with the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic -nothing like a healthy dose of history, monuments, anecdotes, tales of sinking ships, treasure hunters, privateers, Canadian naval stories, hundreds of ship and sailboat models, real artifacts from the Titanic, lighthouse magnifying glass, old paintings, film clips and diary entries of the 1917 Halifax Explosion to provide a little context, to this captivating, unique and beautiful province and region. This was followed by a delightful lunch at McKelvie's: seafood chowder, fresh lobster roll, rasberry zinger mocktail and mini-carrot cake dessert, topped with lemon cream, burnt coconut shavings and a chocolate drizzle -at long last, a "very Maritime", seafood experience! 
I really got walking after that, unfazed by the rain, determined to make the most of my one day in the Maritime capital -truly felt like a cross between Ottawa and Quebec city -small city town, lots of character, right on the coast (a harbour town indeed... or as my father used to call it, "a sailor town", though less so now than 20 years ago, probably!), plenty of university students wandering or rushing about, buses and cars milled about in traffic, but only on the few 'main roads', with a downtown core only a few blocks long by a few blocks wide. Still, distinctly a city, albeit not a typical one. Dinner theatre, musical theatre, banks, high rises, restaurants, bars and pubs, a few Starbucks, local cafe franchises, eccentric little shops, parks, statues and monuments, residential streets with those typical, brightly coloured, gabled Maritime homes -prettier areas and less pretty areas. Overall, entirely endearing. Walking along Barrington St and up Spring Garden, I began with a visit to the IWK children's and women's hospital, one of the Dalhousie teaching sites, skirting past the main Dalhousie campus... the same university that graduated many a bright Canadian scientist, lawyer, doctor... including the late CD Howe, the politician responsible for the funding of the Avro Arrow project. 
Then a lovely stroll through the Public Gardens -one of Canada's oldest and probably prettiest Victorian-style gardens, with little man-made ponds, picture-book walking bridges, ducks, Renaissance-style, goddess-like statues, gazebos, gardens-yet-to-be-flower-filled, magnolias already abloom with young blossoms, people young and old, taking rest on the park benches, or jogging along the trails, and a beautiful empty stage, with rows of empty benches below (perhaps for summer performances of opera or theatre or fiddle-playing? I'll bet this is wedding-central in the summer!). I made my way up to the Citadel, full of history and great views of the coast and the city from above, walking along the top of high stone walls, old canons with some kind of army training happening down below. Meandered my way back to where I started, popping into Starbucks to juice up my phone, over a long-craved green tea soy latte, and into strange little shops full of imported Indian jewlery and knick-knacks, or tarot cards, scented candles, rocks and Celtic folk books, or the most fantastic used book store I've seen in a while, where I purchased a second hand copy of Robertson Davies "Tempest Lost" and some other book on the peaceful coexistence of diverse religious groups in medieval Spain. Quickly flitted into the gift shop of the art museum to pick up some stationary (I'm such a sucker for stationary and the most beautiful and interesting ones always come from museum gift shops! would have liked to see the actual museum, but it was closing in 10 minutes!)... and then a lazy drive back. We came home after eating a decadent serving of "garlic fingers" -like pizza, but garlic butter instead of tomato sauce, topped with mozzarella, cheddar, banana peppers, which you then dip generously dip into the side order of "donair sauce" (really like a sweet garlic cream... mmmm), at the local pizzeria in town. Early night to bed (much needed)! Definitely "burned the wick at both ends", but well-worth it!
P.S. all the photos of the food, except for the garlic fingers + donair, are all dishes that I have cooked / baked since being here... various seafood concoctions of salmon, scallops and shrimp, pasta with a hearty sauce, asperagus omelet with canned salmon mixed with dill, lemon and mayo, and of course my "specialty" (after being taught by my college roommate, followed by my own modifications) chocolate chip cookies... yes, be impressed ;)
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Hidden Gem: Nova Scotia, Seafood delight and Shaving to Save!
So this is also about my thoughts on family medicine, but in short, although I was sincerely hoping to have my mind changed about family medicine in this new setting, I am learning quickly that even in the best possible situation, the bread and butter of family medicine is not for me!I do however find myself madly in love with this Nova Scotian countryside coast-town, where I am currently doing the second half of my rural family medicine core rotation. The first half was in a small Quebec town, close to the Ontario border -it was... adequate. The best part was assisting in a delivery that became complicated, with failed vantouse and having to go to C-section done by a general surgeon and beautifully finished with a clean subcuticular stitch as opposed to the tackyness of clips. It was a cute little town, a nice little hospital, simple, friendly farmland folk -I probably would have loved it if I was doing obstetrics or surgery... I just don't get excited by the typical family medicine run-of-the-mill type issues.
I thought I was into "women's health" -their "whole bodies, not just their vaginas and pregnancies", but actually, I only get excited when I get to do procedures... PAPs, deliveries, etc. The rest is rather unfulfilling (though I do enjoy the mental health stuff, in all fairness). I did learn a lot though. And am continuing to learn away through 24-hour calls and busy days here in this little Maritime town. My supervisor here is truly amazing -so passionate, really loves to teach, very hospitable and fun, so I am enjoying the experience of medicine more generally here, as well as the experience of Nova Scotia. 
So when I was post-call yesterday, I got to do a little exploring of this place, and really I am in love. This little town is right on the coast, beautiful Atlantic ocean all around, cute non-cookie-cutter homes (pretty architecture, very different from the French Canadian of home, or the tackiness of some of big city Ontario buildings) with lots of forest and garden space, and there are actually little brooks that bubble and run between properties in some places! 
There are 4 churches within 4 blocks right in the heart of town, whose bells chime every hour on the hour, and beautiful old mansions have been converted into doctors' offices on the main street. Lovely parks with old fashioned street lamps lining the paths, and benches right on the banks of the blue Atlantic are just a few steps away from where I'm staying. 
And just a few minutes drive away, there are beautiful white, sandy beaches -hidden gems -pristine, uncommercialized, with forest along the banks, sea shells and sand dollars on the shores, and giant rocks to pick your way through and stand on so you get the best view of the waves crashing up against them... the lady I'm staying with took me there around sunset yesterday evening. It was gorgeous, and we were literally the only people on the whole beach! Also, the people are also so friendly here, non-pretentious, genuine... all the cars stop if you want to cross the road, if you make eye contact with someone, they will absolutely say 'hello' (I often smile at strangers when i'm walking about and usually, the best I get in return is a reciprocal smile, let alone a "hi")...
It's like the beauty of British Columbia without the pretention and granola... very real and grounding with the gentle, soothing waves kissing the sands of this little Canadian province. I'm such an East Coast girl (though I've only been to the Maritimes once before for a road trip when I was 10... a pilgrimage to the home of Anne of Green Gables in PEI ;) But really, this place is full of that ethereal spiritual kind of romance that I love, as well as a very peaceful and enjoyable solitude. I love it. Also one can get great seafood here.Case in point, I bought salmon at the grocery store and baked it up very nicely at home, for the first time ever, and honestly, it was the best salmon I've ever had in my life -really! Here it is below:
Purple Pebble's Salmon ConcoctionHeat oven to 425F. Line pan with aluminum. Wash salmon filet and lay on aluminum. Mix crushed garlic, lemon juice, capers, dill, chives and onion salt in a bowl. Sprinkle some lemon juice onto salmon filet, followed by some lemon pepper. Pour mixture onto salmon liberally. Dot with butter. Close up aluminum foil around salmon, leaving a little opening on top (keeping the moisture in, but not letting it get too mushy when it cooks in the oven). Pop in the oven for 15-17 minutes. Let each forkful melt in your mouth (as it surely will). Repeat :)
And finally, I am so proud of my little sister who "shaved to save" last weekend, along with 2 of her friends to raise awareness about the socio-cultural reality that people undergoing cancer chemotherapy have to live, donating her hair to make wigs for people with cancer, and raising nearly $7000 in just 1 week for the Children's Wish Foundation. She was right when she said "but if I shave it all off, more people will donate, and they will donate more!" So courageous, such a great cause! Check out the awesome short link below to witness this beautiful act of love:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TNrzxtpc_k
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